In Rivendell, Just After Lunch
by Lirk
Summary: Frodo and Sam finally let their hearts be heard.


In Rivendell, Just After Lunch...

By Lirk

A/N: This is my first fic, so be gentle. I dunno if I'll write more on it, like more chapters and stuff, that'll depend on the reviews. It's also Frodo/Sam slash, so if you have problems with gay hobbit sex, I'd stay away from this fic if I were you.

ALSO, when the text is italic, it's someone's thoughts.

REVIEW, WENCHES! ;)

Deciding to take a nice walk back to Sam's dwellings in Rivendell after Pippin and Merry were stinking up their lovely picnic (literally) and cackling at the sounds the stench was introduced by, Frodo's feelings were focused on Alirka. His future wife, as he well knew, was in Lord Elrond's care, but no one was quite sure if she would live. The lava of Mt. Doom still held strong to her skin, keeping her on the very edge of life. Just as they put their coats in Sam's closet, Frodo began to pace. Sam was concerned about Frodo.

"You fret, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, trying to strike up conversation.

He answered unnaturally fast. "Oh Sam, I fret as I never have. If only she would wake!"

"Do you always worry on her so?" Sam asked.

Frodo took more time to respond. "I worry on the ones I love, but sometimes-" He stopped in his tracks.

Sam, needing desperately to know more, walked down to lose himself in Frodo's eyes to find his thoughts. "...Yes?"

Frodo stared into Sam's beautiful eyes: dark, but at the same time, gold and warm. He could stare into those eyes year after year. He knew now, Sam must hear him say those words he dreaded and hoped he would say.

"Sometimes it's not her."

"Wot?" Sam was intrigued, and mortified all at once. What if it wasn't him? What if it was Pippin? Second cousins Sam's Aunt Lobelia. They were kissing at Amon Hen all that time ago and all the hobbits knew it.

It became very hard for Frodo to speak, but there was no way to turn back. Sam had to know. "It's not always Alirka on my mind, Sam." He choked the words out, knowing they would fall on deaf and subsequently hateful ears.

Now it was clear to Sam where Frodo was going. Also, it was very apparent that it was hard for him, so he thought he would help him along. "Truth be told, it's not always "Rosie, Rosie, Rosie" for me either." He

spoke into Frodo's eyes.

So all hope was not lost for Frodo! He pursued. "Please, tell me Sam... who else occupies your mind so?"

"I feel it isn't the time for me to say, sir." _Elegantly done, Samwise you old fool._ He had come so far to pouring his soul out to Frodo, and had ran out of courage just a **smidgeon** too late. _Really, very elegant, Samwise._

Sam may have given up, but Frodo was another case. He persisted, firm in his belief, that "I'faith, Sam, if my heart speaks not now, 'twill shatter in silence." He took a deep breath. _Well, here goes everything..._ "It is you, sir."

Of all the things that could have caught the hobbit's ear, it was the title Mr. Frodo had given him. "Sir?"

"Indeed, sir. Good Sam, I-" Frodo's brain froze, and the words came. "I love you."

Taken aback, Sam took a second or two to process that. Finally, his brain came back into his head, and the obvious reply with it. "By my troth, Frodo!" Sam said, beaming. "It is requited!"

Frodo's world grew blindingly bright. "R-R-Really?"

Sam's smile streched from one ear to the other. "I love you too!" He assured Frodo of his true feelings. He could never have felt so wonderful.

"Oh, sweet Sam!" Frodo found is hands around Sam's strong arms. There was a warm embrace.

The only word to describe Sam was giddy. He couldn't have been happier. "Dearest Frodo!" He sighed, having nothing else to illustrate his bliss.

"Beloved Sam, how wonderful it is to hold you at last!" Frodo replied, blithe spirit filling him to the brim.

"My love, no one knows how long I have waited for this moment." Sam had finally found words for his love.

Frodo stood back lovingly, rubbing Sam's shoulders. Suddenly, passion filled his eyes, possessing him. His voice now took a much more formal tone. "Enough talk."

Frodo didn't care if this was too fast; he had waited through the long days at Hobbiton, watching him take too much care with the plants. How wonderfully those fingers caressed the flowers, and how he envied them. He had endured all those times when, sitting at the Green Dragon, he would talk about Rosie this, Rosie that. Why Rosie? Why not him? He grieved many a night because of that- that- **Rosie**. The wait was over. Sam was his. No more Rosie. No more waiting. No more...

With that Frodo lunged to Sam and eagerly kissed him. Sam deepened it and Frodo moaned in return. Slowly Frodo's tongue tickled at Sam's lips, and was fervently met by Sam's tongue. Time seemed to go at breakneck speed and slower than days of war simultaneously. This was the stuff of Sam's wildest erotic dreams, but Frodo wanted more. Much more.

Frodo's cherubic hands crawled down Sam's face, his neck, down to his shoulders, and peeled off Sam's sage green vest. Sam was dumbfounded by love, by desire. No wonder he was panting so hard: Rosie would have satisfied him, but to have Frodo do this to him was beyond divine to Sam. Having difficulties breathing made it even harder for him to attempt to unbutton Frodo's silk-smooth shirt. Frodo... oh, Frodo...

Sam... oh, Sam... Frodo's hands ripped the buttons from Sam's shirt, Sam's chest exposed. It was as beautiful as he thought it would be. Bronze, warm, so... inviting. Frodo couldn't and wouldn't wait any longer. At this Sam cast away his remnants of a shirt. Foot by foot Sam steered Frodo into Sam's bedroom. They had both waited impatiently far too long.

Bare-chested, Sam toiled away at Frodo's shirt, just where he had left off. He was trying to be as fast as he could, but he wasn't able to get the cursed shirt off with Frodo kissing him so. Frodo saw this, and in reply, backed onto the bed, lying in the middle. Looking up at Sam, he knew he was vulnerable to Sam's every whim. He didn't care. He **liked** it.

"Sam," Frodo whispered, huskily, deeply. In all their long years, Frodo had never spoken this way to Sam, and it aroused him. "I'm all yours_." Alirka isn't even awake. No need to think about her._ Frodo thought. He wanted Sam now. Bad.

Frodo had never looked this appealing. Nevertheless, Sam wanted to go leisurely, burn himself into Frodo. He knew that was malicious, but he was the only way to keep the shirt's seams coming out, or the buttons popping. Sam made the shirt, after all; he wanted to protect it. Sam climbed onto Frodo's hips. They both loved that, no mistake. Sam knew what he felt under

him. Mounted on top of Frodo, Sam began to delicately take the shirt off, taking extra care with Mr. Frodo's lovely brass buttons. Every button set free from its hold made Frodo gasp and groan. He had the buttons off. Well done, Samwise. Hurry now. Soon Frodo's arms felt the tingling of Sam's fingers creeping down them, shedding Frodo's shirt. His angelic skin, so soft to the touch, was only feeding the fire. His fire, their fire...

Frodo wasn't capable of resisting anymore. Frodo rolled over, taking Sam with him. Frodo was on top, staring down at the one person that mattered now. He stood up on the side of the bed, for better leverage. He grabbed hold of Sam's breeches and pulled hard. There he was: Sam was naked, his breeches in the middle of the next room and his shirt scrap cloth. He was also very skilled with his toes, as most Gamgees were. A strange talent, and noone could explain it. All of Hobbiton had pondered and puzzled, but that had no relevance: he didn't care now. He caught some of Frodo's pants in-between his toes and he pulled as hard as he could. Frodo walked out of them, kicking them into a corner.

Frodo jumped onto Sam, the skin upon skin sensation exciting both of them equally. Frodo's tongue was soon in Sam's mouth, and it was all Sam could do to let out a long, pleasured, sensual groan. Sam pulled away, and

for a minute or two they just stared into each other until it was clear as the day peeking in through Sam's curtains: they both wanted to do this.

There was silence. Their breathing filled the entire room. "Sam..." Frodo panted.

"Yes?" Sam gasped, catching his breath. He knew he was going to need it.

"...turn over." Frodo finished. Sam immediately complied. His dreams were going to be fulfilled. He was so close to... close to...

It was done. Frodo had taken him. Frodo started out very slow, making sure Sam wanted this. He was sure when Sam was moaned something about "more". This was all Frodo needed, and let his heart guide him. Harder. Faster.

The room was filled with silence but their groans, their moans, gasping, panting. They could have slipped between the sheets, but that would have taken more time. Time was of the essence.

Pulling Sam's hips to him, pushing him into Sam...

Being filled with Frodo Baggins...

Finally bedding Samwise Gamgee...

Being taken by the Ring bearer...

_Oh, Sam..._

_Oh Frodo..._

It seemed like it lasted forever. That wouldn't have been bad by either of their standards. Filled with their love for each other, they clambered under the bed sheets, still struggling to breathe. Every few pants, one's name would emerge from the other's lips as a barely audible whisper. Holding each other close, Sam... Frodo... Sam... Frodo...

And so it was... And Alirka and Rosie will never know.

FIN


End file.
